


With Your Arms Around Me Tight

by flazy2



Series: Shameless One Shots [7]
Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Adorable, Cute, Fluff, Hugs, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mickey Uses His Words, Probably OOC Mickey, Public Display of Affection, cold weather clothing, happy feelings, light mentions of past child abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 21:11:03
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,360
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2888033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flazy2/pseuds/flazy2
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Winter is Ian’s favorite time of year. Hot chocolate, snowball fights, Christmas music, he loves all of it, but his favorite aspect of winter is the cold-weather clothing. Hats, scarves, and comfy sweaters remind him of some of his favorite memories as a child.</p>
<p>He’s not the only one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Your Arms Around Me Tight

Winter is Ian’s favorite time of year. Hot chocolate, snowball fights, Christmas music, he loves all of it, but his favorite aspect of winter is the cold-weather clothing. Hats, scarves, and comfy sweaters remind him of some of his favorite memories as a child.

He’s not the only one.

* * *

Ian gets home to the Milkovich house one day after having spent the day babysitting Liam at the Gallagher house. He throws his coat across the back of the couch and flops down next to his boyfriend, tired from all the running around he’d done after his younger brother all day. Maybe baking sugar cookies and eating the entire batch themselves wasn't the best idea.

Mickey’s watching some hoarding show on TV, and it’s doing nothing to keep the younger boy awake. He lays his head down on the older boy’s shoulder, feeling himself start to nod off. It’s not until he feels Mickey put one arm around his shoulder and the other around his waist, rubbing in slow circles that he knows he’s not gonna make it to the bed. 

* * *

A few days later Ian and Mickey are waiting at an L station for the train to take them to Ian’s therapist for his weekly session. It’s still morning, everything is covered in a thin layer of frost, with the sun slowly rising up over the buildings around them doing nothing to warm either boy up.

It’s just past rush hour, those that would have been heading to work or school had already done so, leaving the platform empty, except for the two of them. They stand side by side, chatting about Yev and whether it would be a good idea to take him to the doctor for his cough, or if they should try waiting a little longer to see if he’ll get over it. Mickey glances around, checking to see that they’re still the only two on the platform. He makes his move while Ian’s deep in thought, unzipping the redhead’s coat, and pulling it apart to step into his boyfriend’s warmth.

Ian freezes, unsure of what to do, as even though Mickey’s been out for a while, he’s still not too keen on public displays of affection, and more importantl, he’s never _initiated_ them himself. He feels Mickey wrap his arms around his back under his coat, enveloping him into a hug, and stroking his back with his hands. Ian places his own arms around his guy’s waist, feeling the warmth from the other boy leeching onto his front where he’d felt the blast of cold air hit him from having his coat unzipped. 

He tucks Mickey’s head under his chin, taking a deep breath and experiencing his boyfriend’s familiar scent. It’s not until he angles his face downward to press a kiss into his hair that Mickey pushes him off. 

“Okay, okay, that’s enough, freckles.” he says, pulling back from the embrace and looking around once more, just to make sure. 

Ian doesn’t question it as he takes a step back himself and zips his coat back up. The important thing is that Mickey had given him a _long_ hug. Outside. In public. Without being asked to. 

It’s only morning, and he’s already having a great fucking day. 

* * *

He doesn’t make the connection at first, sometimes Mickey gets all cuddly and _un-Mickey-like_ , and sometimes he doesn’t. The location doesn’t seem to matter either, he’s done it on the couch, in their bedroom, once in the bathroom at The Alibi, even out in public. It’s only after Mickey does it one day after getting home and finding Ian lying in bed reading a book that Ian puts it together in his head. 

Mickey is curled up against his right side, with his right arm thrown across Ian’s stomach, hand stroking the fabric of his sweater up and down when Ian realizes that one of the only constant things about Mickey’s cuddliness is the stroking and caressing of Ian as he does it, and now that he thinks back to the other times, he realizes that he had always been wearing the same wool sweater that he’s wearing right now. 

He loops his arm around Mickey’s back and sets the book down on his lap, taking a moment before asking, “It’s my sweater, isn’t it?” 

“What about it?” Mickey asks. 

“You like my sweater, don’t you? You seem to get very ‘hands-on’ whenever I wear it,” Ian says. “What’s up with that?” 

“No I don’t,” Mickey says unconvincingly. He stills his hand’s movements, realizing he’s been caught with his hand in the figurative cookie jar. 

Ian continues his own movements on his boyfriend’s back. “Not that I don’t love it, and I really do, but it’s kinda weird.” 

“It’s…” He sighs, removing himself from across the other boy’s body to sit up against the headboard next to him. “When I was little,” Mickey says slowly, “my mom had this old sweater she used to wear all the time. It was this big gray thing that always looked like she was drowning in it, but it was the thickest sweater she had, so it was usually the only one she wore when it got really cold out.” He shrugs his shoulders.

And Ian was not expecting anything like that when he had questioned Mickey. He was expecting something along the lines of liking how hot he looked in it, or the way it matched his hair. _Shut up, It’s not gay if it’s true._ He puts his hand on Mickey’s knee, willing him to go on. 

“I hated that sweater. I hated the way it was all scratchy and itchy, and whenever she’d give Mandy and me hugs I swear I still felt all itchy on my face afterwards.” Mickey casts his eyes downward, not wanting to continue, but doing so because he feels like he _needs_ to share this with Ian, who seemingly tells Mickey about everything. He _wants_ to tell him.

“It’s not like she hugged us all the time or nothing, especially in front of Terry. It was usually after Terry beat me or something.” He says it casually, as if he wasn’t describing the way his father used to abuse them, “she’d clean the blood off and make sure nothing was broken then give me a hug and send me to my room.” Mickey stares off into the distance, recalling the memories. 

“It wasn’t until after she-“ Mickey swallows hard, “after she died, and Mandy took her sweater that I realized I liked that stupid thing. It reminded me of her, you know?” 

Ian nods his head slowly. Mandy rarely talked about their mother, he only knew the smallest amount about her. Mickey had _never_ talked about her before, so Ian could see how important this was to Mickey. He was sharing something that he’d probably never told anyone before; Ian felt a warmth spread in his chest at the thought. 

“So when you wear this thing,” he toys with the hem of Ian’s sweater, “it kinda reminds me of her sweater. It’s not as itchy as hers, but when it scratches against my skin it’s like she’s here or I’m safe or whatever...” Mickey trails off, feeling a heat rising in his face, “it’s really gay, isn’t it?” 

Ian lifts his arm, placing it around Mickey’s shoulders, rubbing the material of the sweater on his arm against the back of his neck and bringing his hand to rest on his hip. “You know I don’t think that, plus who cares if I did? In case you forgot, I’m kind of totally gay for you,” he says lovingly, looking down to smile at his boyfriend. 

"Yeah yeah, how could I forget about this morning. And last night. And last night in the shower.” Mickey snorts.

Ian rolls his eyes, rubbing his hand on Mickey’s hip and bringing his other hand place on the brunet’s cheek. “Thank you for telling me,” he punctuates it with a kiss. 

Mickey lifts his own arms to wrap back around the redhead’s waist, feeling the material underneath as it scratches the skin on his hands, just how he likes it.

**Author's Note:**

> So this is actually based on a true story. My grandma used to have this wool cardigan-type sweater that she wore all the time, and I totally hated how it felt when she hugged me. She died earlier this year and for Christmas I got a really nice wool sweater that reminded me of my grandma and her sweater and it gave me happy tears. So now I pass the feelings onto you.
> 
>  


End file.
